


The Comfort Of A Laugh-Track

by NEONVORE (orphan_account)



Category: BoJack Horseman
Genre: Other, Relapsing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-29
Updated: 2019-11-29
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:13:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21604300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/NEONVORE
Relationships: BoJack Horseman & Diane Nguyen, Bojack Horseman & Hollyhock Manheim-Mannheim-Guerrero-Robinson-Zilberschlag-Hsung-Fonzerelli-McQuack, Bojack Horseman & Princess Carolyn, Pickles Aplenty/Mr. Peanutbutter
Kudos: 16





	1. Chapter 1

No one ever got back to him. 

But what was new? If anything it was to be expected. Because time no longer waited and paused sleazily for Bojack, or didn't wait til one mistake moved to another; it didn't wait for everyone to forget all the shitty things he'd done, because that wasn't how it worked. Maybe it did in the past, blacking out with a body full of drugs and alcohol - to the point where he'd vanish in his high state til everyone just moved with the next drama. But that was past Bojack. Maybe that was how he did things, and maybe a part of him itched it was still seemingly that simple, but it truly wasn't.

How did he know? Well, for starts; his entire very life seemed to be a joke. Go figure.

But of all things, he wasn't expecting Gina to come running back to him. Perhaps not in a way like that, more-so with a knife in hand as she threatened to murder him for robbing her fame with the good ol' slap of a 'Bojack Fucked This Life up, Too' sticker on her face. 

Maybe things slipped out that were meant to be hidden. And maybe past drunken calls to Charlotte, somehow always being answered by her husband became to frequent and too suspicion. But that was the exact _thing._ That was old Bojack. That was old him hoping to get any sort of validation from her, even if it came from the lips of her husband. And maybe stalking their social medias was too much for old him. Because it made it all too real, to see her face. To see Penny's face, to know that yes _this_ was the exact life, no lives- multiple, he ruined. And they, only them two, would know that. Hidden away behind doors and so many locks that having only one key to try and unlock their trust was a massive shit on everything.

But, again, that was old Bojack. Or young Bojack? Or.. It didn't matter. Nothing really mattered, not anymore, not really. Because he was sober, and has been for a few years now. And it was.. Well, honestly, it was kinda amazing. Seeing the world was still garbage, but.. Less directed at him. Even if everyone moved on, and was done catering to his needs; it was still fine.

Even if news and sites made articles about how old he now looked, and while hands reached and pleaded for the bottle of dye to make himself 'young' again, and loved - Sharona would slap his hands away and only laugh. Because this was life. Be young, strive, get old - then die. It wasn't different for anyone, especially not movie stars. If anything, maybe it happened faster. Let it be their careers, or their lives in general, Bojack refused to admit she was right. Because.. No one was right, only him, right? This couldn't be for nothing. That just couldn't be the case.

Tired eyes, cold hands and new clothes - life was okay, at best. Gina at his throat, eyes skittering over the Carson contact on his phone and the remembrance of his best-friend - of his _tv daughter, was today._ Isn't that weird? Isn't that fowl. That it had been nearly 4 years since Sarah Lynn's death. And it was his fault. His own doing, because he just couldn't cope. Couldn't get better. And she couldn't either, and he knew not to help - but to drown, and bring those drowning as well further with him.

With the questions and upset gazes on the date, he knew what they were all thinking. That she, Sarah Lynn, was an amazing young woman. But not just that, but that he had to have done something with her. He had to have hurt her, somehow; he had to be of cause. And they were right. Because it was true, everything they said was true. She was amazing, and he destroyed that little star. She had so much potential, then..

It was specifically today that he buried himself in bed, eyes heavy and hands cold and clasped under his pillow in hopes to warm up. Even if California was a hell-hole, and ungodly hot; he felt freezing, numb.

His phone shook and made obnoxious noises, to what he could only imagine as rings from Princess and sometimes Todd - probably shows he should do, with his new mature look; you'd be surprised the door it opened. And especially Mr. Peanutbutter. He seemed more keen on calling him, and not shoving his success in his face. It was surprising to hear a gentle and quiet 'hows it going, buddy?' come from such a loud dog. And despite how much he hated, and utterly despised him; he was thankful for having him. A friend like him.

But by all means, that didn't mean he would answer. Was he that dumb? No. Duh. 

The itch to take sleeping pills to pretend the day never happened was strong, but he knew well he couldn't mange pills. Not alone. Princess had taken a hold onto any pills he needed, which honestly were just sleeping-pills, normal sick shit and anti-depressants. She was the one who suggested it, and it was fine. Because it was a fair reasoning to want to say, considering it was basically his entire redemption arc. Or, something. 

But since they were at her place, it would mean he would need to get up. And fuck that. His legs felt like jelly and his body was shaking with chills.

And to add on? His phone wouldn't shut up.

With a grunt and a heavy sigh, he shakily forced himself up, and looked at the phone in annoyance and despair. 3:56 PM. Could be worse. He let the covers hang on his body, as he gently leaned back into his bed and hesitantly grabbed for his phone. He slid through each notification, reading each pointless message to him about how sorry they were; that Sarah would be proud of him and why? He fucking did this to her. He deserved hell, he deserved to be murdered or tortured - and if they ever found out, he would be sure that was what he'd get. And he would be fine with it. Because he was just so, so tired.

Mr. Peanutbutter.

Mr. Peanutbutter.

Mr. Peanutbutter.

Princess Caroyln.

Mr. Peanutbutter.

Todd.

Princess.

Diana.

Hollyhock.

Todd -

Holly? She called him?

He felt his brows furrow as he hastily pressed onto the 'call back' button; silently praying she'd pick up. "Hey! Uhm. Hey. Sorry I was asleep, and -"

The other side was silent, no familiar and loud greeting from his half-sister. 

"..Uh. Wrong number? Did I.."

Fumbling was heard, only to admit a heavy sigh and shushing. "No, no. This - This is Hollyhock. Yeah. You're fine, Bojack." He exhaled heavily and laughed, eyes shutting as he cuddled into the depths of his bed. "Awesome, okay. I was.. I was gonna say, that would've been sucky - not remembering my own sis-"

"Bojack, we.. Uhm. W - We need to talk. Not on phone. Li - Like, face to face. Because you know no matter what, I will love you, yes?" He felt his body run colder then it was, and his hand grew stiff. Was this a fucked way of sibling break up? Did she regret ever meeting him? She did absolutely despise his birth? Did she regret helping him? Bojack exhales heavily and nods, despite not being seen. "..Sure. Uh. Yeah, that's fine. Is everything okay out there?" His voice grew quieter, even if he was alone. How long had it been since he had company over?

"Its fine, well - no, not really but.. L - Look. I need to ask you about something, but.. I don't." She tried to find the words, gasping quietly as nothing seemed to fit or work in her liking.

"Hey, its okay. I'm sure whatever is up wil -"

"No! NO. It's.. N - Not that simple. I have class, I need to go. But just. I'll call you back. We will work out.. Places, and stuff. This is serious. I - I'm not laughing. And.. And please, don't call me; unless I call you."

The call ended there, and Bojack could only lay in silence. The day, already awful - felt to only bring him down further. He felt like his hands and feet were stapled to the bed, refusing to let him walk free. His eyes burned, as if he was 6 and his mother laughed at his mistake at singing her favorite song; and his stomach churned with the familiarity of a bad hang-over. When was the last time he ate, too?

He clears his throat and curses to himself as he rings up Princess, as well - wiping his eyes as he sniffled.

"Bojack, you sonna'a'bitch -" her words drawled together, but he didn't peep a word. "About time you answered! Stop feeling sorry for yourself, and meet me at my office. I know you wanted your low-key living situation, but trust me I have put together the best -"

"I don't think right now is a good time." 

The line went quiet, and he dully notes the cooing of Princess's daughter. She's gonna be lucky, he thought, and found a sad smile slipping to his face. She would live on Princess's legacy. Would anyone his?

"..Bojack. Bojack Horseman, I. I understand this is a hard day, and trust me it only gets worse because I will NOT sugar it up. You will feel like shit, you will cry and be bashed on; but don't stop your own needs for some assholes, they're all probably like - like 10, or something! Bojack. What I saying is, we.. Everyone is concerned." He would've interrupted, but knew best. She was on her aspiring rant, and to interrupt her was like interrupting the Oscars, or something. It would be awkward. "We haven't heard from you in - hear this, years! We know you're alive, and that is the best we can hope for. But we haven't.. None of us actually interacted with you in ages. We were supposed to celebrate your soberness and -" 

He scoffed, and stood up - letting the blanket fall to the ground.

"I don't deserve that."

Princess scoffed and rattled some toy, earning coos and laughter of approval. Would his Mom be proud of him? To see him getting better. Or would nothing change. Would Dad care, even?

  
"Of course you do.. Its so strong, Bojack. You've been doing so well, and we.. Want to show you how much it means to us. You are an inspiration, top 20 list of stars who recovered - despite it not being seen as cool and hip!"

He groans, and rubs his eyes, stumbling into the kitchen and opening the fridge with a grunt. Empty. His stomach growled for something, anything - but he felt so heavy and lost. He felt disgusting, he felt fat and pointless and.. So much at once. 

"Yeah, yeah.. But that doesn't mean I feel better."

.

.

.

"Bojack.." Princess said softly, and the soft click let him know she moved rooms. This was serious. This wasn't fair. She had her own life, and here he was; sprinkling his Bojack turds onto it. Ruining her family life she always wanted. A life she could never get with him. With knowing him.. Bojack pondered this, and pouts. With knowing him. He reached for a pen and wrote on his hand; knowing him (Bojack, that's me). He could work with this.

"- ou don't really think this is what you want, right? I mean.. The money, sure. But I know how much work you put into this.. Sober-life-style. And frankly, your fans love it! And so do your friends. Your family."

He didn't deserve family. His family line was going to end now, right here. 

"Yeah, yeah. I know I'm doing great, it's just one of those days." He mutters, tossing the bed aside as he turned on his heel to the bathroom to shower. It was the least he could do, he couldn't imagine how rancid he smelled. "It is, in fact, _the_ day. You have every right to be upset, Bojack. But.." She trailed off, and he turned on the shower. Letting the heat fill the room and fog the mirror away; fog his existence away, even if for a few minutes.

"Promise me you won't do anything dumb. Outside the boundaries of.. Of Bojack dumb. Okay?" Princess pleaded more then asked, and the guilt only stirred up again. "..Yeah. Sure."

She groaned on the other line and audibly slammed a hand on a table. 

"No - not sure. Not yes, or okay. Promise me, please?" Bojack slid out of his boxers and began removing his socks, letting the phone rest on the counter-top. It took longer then it should've, and he could only assume it made it less possible to believe him.

"I promise, Princess. I won't be outside of Bojack-is-dumb-boundaries, okay? Just.. I really need to just think. And get out, or something." Princess sighed in-relief and nodded (again, despite not being seen). "I agree. A nice walk might help! Or, actually get food.. Do remember, Todd and I have the spare key." Bojack grunted loudly and glared at his phone. "So it was you stealing my food! And - and lighting weird, but fruit candles." 

"No, you just don't have food. And the candle was my idea, don't let Todd take the credit. Now, I have a crying baby in the other room and -" She shouldn't of left in the first place, he wasn't worth it. He didn't deserve to be cradled and praised for problems _he_ caused.

"Toodles! Be safe, love you - best client, great progress - see you at 5!"

Yeah.


	2. Chapter 2

The shower overall was the highlight of his day. The burning water bleeding into his skin, it somewhat gave him reassurance that he could still feel; even despite the numbness that flooded his body. Bojack wasn't particularly sure how long he was in there, but the steaming water that turned into utter ice on his body was enough to let him know that he needed to get out. Drying off his hair, and allowing the towel to wrap around his waist - he left the bathroom and shuddered at the normal-temperature air hit him (he much preferred the scalding water to this). Blinking once, then twice, he suddenly felt.. Lost. What was he supposed to do now? Sure, get ready - maybe clean up. But everything sounded like a chore, and he wanted nothing more then to crawl back in bed and sleep for another few ages until he was forgotten. 

Except he didn't want to be forgotten, but sometimes it just felt easier. To disappear. He never shared this, because what was so different about his case? He wasn't the only depressed person (or horse) in the world, why should he be treated better?

Well, maybe because he was also a celebrity; but that wasn't the point.

Then what was the point?

Bojack groans and lets his feet drag him to his bedroom, to which he flicked on the light and winced at the brightness. Dropping the towel, he steps over to his closet and skims through outfits, deciding on a simple sweater whilst slipping on his newly (was it new? How long had it been since he even gotten new clothes?) acquired jacket, and slips from his room yet again.

The blinds of the house were shut, thankfully. He wasn't sure how much obnoxious brightness he could handle. Thankfully he had no plans, so perhaps he could just check on his twitter and.. 

Oh. Right. Princess. 

He exhales heavily and rubs his face in annoyance, shifting in his spot before hastily retreating to the kitchen to snag his phone from the counter. As expected, he had some more missed calls and a few texts.

Most consisted from Mr. Peanutbutter and Todd, but he didn't feel any guilt or need to call back.

And the phone would've gone right back onto the counter, if it weren't for it to ring loudly and vibrate heavily in his cold palms.

"Yes, yes. Hello, Bojack. Horseman, duh - I mean, why would you call other wise, li - like —"

The other-side let out a laugh obnoxious laugh, and Bojack felt his day already met back into the same familiar mold he was used to all those years ago; "Bojack! Horseman? Well, I sure hoped this was the right number! Then again, I did change your name on my phone to 'Best Friend'. But I do have.. At least 21 contacts with that name, so it was tough! But I found you, so it all worked in the end!" Go figure. Mr. Peanutbutter wasn't the best at commitment. Or maybe that was how he saw him. 

The horse opened his mouth to reply, but only was met with sputtered words that made no sense. He sighs. "Whats up, buddy? You have been missing out! No one has heard from you in awhile, its kinda.. Er." The excited dog paused, and cleared his throat. It kinda made him.. Uncomfortable. Serious Mr was not normal. He much preferred the absentminded and overly happy dog. "..Have you been okay? I know today isn't the hottest for all us," if he so as much left his house, he could bet he would be hassled with endless questions and insults. He deserved it, after all. How could he expect hiding away to be the solution for his problems?

"If - If I'm honest, Mr. Peanutbutter. Today is -"

The dog barked and growled; grumbling incoherent words under his breath.

"Damned squirrel won't get off our yard, Pickles! Sweetie! Love! I'm on the phone, do us both the favor and get that - Oh! He's closer, get him get him get —" Audible barks from both dogs filled his ears, the same with glass falling to the ground and rapid (and violent) pawing at what he could only assume was the window. Pickles was talking to him, and he replied just as excited and eagerly. Dogs, what was their deal?

"..I'm gonna go. Princess Carolyn and I have a date."

This seemed to grab the dogs attention, earning a small yip. "Oh? I thought you two were done. Plus, ya' know; Princess and her daughter, I wasn't aware you wanted to be a father!"

"Maybe at one point I did, but I realized I'm to fucked up to have such a life; I would only rot the kids mind like my parents did to me and - that's, not the point. Its not a date, more so a.. Meeting. I guess." He rubbed the back of his mane anxiously, and began going through his drawers to find a pair of socks. "She has stuff to discuss, stupid role - even when I said I think I found my final job, but.. You know how she is." He sighs, and momentarily shuts his eyes. "Oh, of course! She is one determined kitty! Especially with my new role she forced me into, I've been getting so much attention! The face of depression, still going on strong! Even though I.. Hrm. I feel pretty great, she insists that is what depressed people do - be happy to hide up their feelings. I had no idea I was depressed! Isn't that nuts?!"

Murmuring 'yes' and 'totally' to each rapid phrase Mr managed out, he hastily fixed his coat and got onto the floor to glance under his bed. Fumbling with countless items he shoved under in hopes to pretend he didn't have to clean. 

Notes, writings from fans and some he wrote to old friends.. Glasses (when did he wear glasses?), bras from flings and mismatching socks and shirts.. He groans, and pinches the bridge of his nose. It wasn't like he was drunk or high anymore, he had no reason to lose shoes - of all things. Maybe it was a sign from whatever God that was apparently out there — hiding his shoes, making him go back into bed and cancel his date with Princess, and pretend today was never happening..

"Bojack? You there? You didn't reply or even so as much yell at me at my ramble of my current leading roles. You sure everything is okay?"

He never directly said he was okay, in fact he was the opposite of it. He felt shaky, he felt cold and sick and.. Sad. He felt very sad. Nothing seemed to help, and he for once just yearned for a solution.

"Yeah. I'm.. Good. Look, I'm gonna run late with my date -"

"Yeah! The date thing! I always thought you two were a good match!"

He groans, and offers a loud 'goodbye' and hangs up. Phone dropping to the ground, he could careless for any cracks or issues with it. It was the least of his worries. This day, was the least of his worries. Why didn't people just let him sleep? 

After another good few 20 minutes or more of searching for shoes, he went with some random pair he hadn't worn in years (for good reasoning, they hurt like a bitch) and forced himself back up onto his feet and checked the time.

5:20 PM. Whoa. So, it was.. Definitely longer then 20 minutes. Wasn't it just 3? Or 4, or.. 

Grunting, he snags his phone and reaches for a scarf (it was boiling in Cali! But so what? He felt like a corpse). Pulling the door open, and slamming it shut; he begins to hastily make way to his car. He rustled the keys in his pocket and looked around, inhaling sharply before looking back down. Nothing felt different. Why did everything look, and feel fine? Today was the worst day of history (maybe not so, but he could give less of a rats ass for murders or stupid society problems; this was Sarah Lynn's day, so where was the praise for her?)

Bojack didn't even process he was now on the road, eyes tired and looking at the other cars that passed alongside him whilst on the road. He got waves and eager faces from utter strangers. And it was sickening. His phone vibrated almost every second, and of course he checked because fuck the law - and fuck the possibility of dying, because he was still waiting even after every near death experience he had, he was still standing up. And he shouldn't of.

'Bojack mourns best-friend loss'

'Mr. Horseman, arrives back into society after hiding away for months!'

'Sarah Lynn; story remake. What would've she wanted?'

'Princess, 5:10 pm; Where are you, asshole? Don't sleep this meeting away, you swore.'

Multiple notifications, none he cared to answer. Because it was bullshit.

Why was this about him? Why did they care about how he felt? This wasn't his day, no day should be his day - he didn't matter anymore. In a matter of years, he'd die probably and then what? Would Sarah Lynn's story, still be about him? And how he felt, and how it affected him and much of a role-model he was for her? Yeah right. _Role model. He fucking killed her._

His throat felt tight, and his chest ached. His eyes burned and his hands trembled and - why couldn't he breathe? Oh, God. He was drowning.

His car swerved, and his hands felt stiff and what was happening to him?

Why was everything falling apart? Why did life want him to suffer, what did he do wrong — besides everything in his God forsaken life? His pathetic, and utterly meaningless life..

"About time!"

His head darted up, and he barely realized where he was. VIM Management. What the fuck was happening? 

The pink cat trotted to his car, and wasted no time to open his door and pull him out. "It's 5:40 PM. I told you to be here at 5:00 - even earlier would be better then nearly an hour late!" With her hand pulling and tugging at his sleeve, he let the cat pull him inside and continue to lead the way. He pretended he didn't notice or pay attention to the waves and apologies from the other staff. 

Why was he being apologized to? He did this.

"Before you decline almost everything I offer, I gotta say I did a blast this time! Since everyone is pitying you, its so easy to shove you into roles and productions! I have this one movie I know you'll just LOVE. Its about -"

The large horse made way to a free chair and gently sat down, eyes staring down into his lap. His hand were trembling, and he was freezing. Freezing seemed to be a good way to to describe him now. Cold heart, cold actions.. "..The lady then, get this - is secretly —" What else could he ruin? Whose life could he destroy, now? Would it be an old friend again? A family member.. No, of course not. His family was dead. And he was next. He just hoped, God; no. He wished, he prayed he would be next. That it would come faster, too.

"..You're not interested, or you?" Princess sounded annoyed, and furrowed her brows as she leaned a hand against her face. "Look, you could've at least pretended to at least show some interest. At least when I told the plot."

Her heavy, and tired expression (God she looked exhausted) said enough. She was pissed. Annoyed.

"Can you really tell me whats going on? I get it - its a bad day. But it seems everyday is a bad day. We thought you were better?" Better. Was that what they saw? If anything, he felt worse. Sober enough to grab onto the fucked up mistakes he made, and now actually remember them.. How could he better? Assholes like him deserved to burn, to suffer.

Why couldn't he just suffer.

"No - no, that's not it."

Princess rolled her eyes and shifted from her spot at her desk and made way to sit on the couch alongside Bojack. He didn't flinch, and let her be. She seemed to note this, and frowned. Did she want him to react? What was there to react to?

"Yes, yes. It is it. I know there is more then this day going on - oh, Bojack. Why can't you just let me in? Let anyone in. Hiding away in bed for days on end is no way to live your life. I would know. We need you to get out, need you to meet people and actually say — I dunno, hello? To your friends? Its.." She trailed off, tugging at the thread of her skirt. "..Its not nice feeling. How do you think we feel?"

He squinted, and scoffed. 

"How do you think we feel." He repeats, standing up and tugging at his hair. "How do you feel? How - how do you think I feel? I have to remember that I fucked up someone's life, someone who just wanted to be loved and.. And I let her down! I destroyed her, don't you get that?" Princess stood up as well and held onto his arm, pulling his hands away from his hair to hold them into her own hands. Lovingly. It was disgusting. "Yes, Bojack. We do get it. I get it. But you can't let your past haunt you! Is this how you want to live out the rest of your life? With what ifs, and should of-s and could of-s?" He stared down at her, and felt the similar sensation of burning in his chest and eyes. And he knew it was because he fell back into the water, despite holding his head above the liquid - he was drowning. On and off, sometimes he could swim and others. Other times he would let the water enter his lungs, because it was better then trying and getting nothing good from it.

"..I. I just want to be alone."

The feline whined and shook her head, head looking down as she leaned in to his body and hugged onto him for dear life. "But that is all you've been! Alone. Bojack Horseman, don't you see what I'm trying to do?" Her voice wavered, and the guilt attack with its full army. Again. He was destroying her, too. Was this all he was good at? Apparently so.

".. Fine. Okay." She sniffed, a hand dabbing at her eyes to not ruin her make up. And he noticed it. Noticed the flick of eyeliner, and the light shadow that was purple and looked amazing on her pink pelt. How her lashes curled, and lips painted lightly with the same lipstick she adored for years. But he couldn't manage out a single word. Because he know whatever he said, no matter what; would hurt her. "Just. Look. Don't go home. They're - there is a memorial for Sarah Lynn at Mr. Peanutbutter's home. Though it is more of a party then memorial.. Because, as I quote; 'its what she would've wanted.' She rolled her eyes, and took a deep breath. "It's starting at 7, and almost everyone is going to be there. Including myself. Come, wont you? To show some respect; speak good words about her. You knew her the best, after all. Just.. Please, don't be alone. Not anymore."

He thought, and questioned if it was really worth it.

"We can head early, too. To help set up. I'll be at your side, 24/7. We can even bring Todd! Though, he is fond with baby-sitting Ruthie.." She sighed happily at this, and looked to their feet. "..I'm sure he would love to see you." 

Bojack wanted to disagree, but instead nodded.

"..At my side. 24/7. Got it? That's an order." He murmured, and earned a chuckle - then a heartfelt laugh from the cat. "24/7. Of course, yes sir. Anything for my favorite client."


End file.
